


Blood Simple

by Anonymous



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: A Better World (Gravity Falls), Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Breeding Kink, Dark Ford Pines, Drabble Sequence, Dubious Consent, Genital Change, Incest, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Mpreg, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Old!Ford/Young!Stan, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:01:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26717167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: There’s something strange about this Ford, somethingweird. Stan can't put his finger on what. Maybe it’s the way he stares at Stan, sometimes, almost hungrily, although Stan could chalk that up to just missing him. Same as the rough hugs, the (at times, uncomfortable) caresses, on Stan's arms, his back.In a better world, Ford takes in a younger version of his brother. (Fourteen linked drabbles, with freeform coda.)
Relationships: Ford Pines/Stan Pines
Kudos: 28
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I could say there was some deeper meaning behind this fic, but really I just played a lot of Lilith's Throne and got all hot and bothered. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Further warnings in the end notes.

Stan sits hunched up, knees pulled close to his chest, waiting for the inevitable. He touched the wrong vase while looking for antiques to, uh, "borrow", and now he's in some kind of hellworld where the furniture keeps _shrieking_ and stuffed animals bleed from their eyes and _he's still not home_.

A door opens, somewhere. "Stanley?"

 _He knows that voice._ "Sixer?"

It can't possibly be him; one, he's too old, his hair already greying; two, he looks subtly different, just enough that it's clearly not his Ford.

Still, he's Stan's home.

"Stanley," Not-Quite-Ford says again, "come over here."

Stan obeys.

* * *

"You're in another dimension," this Ford explains, as they're walking down a hallway. "That vase you touched functioned as some kind of portal."

Stan nods, though he doesn't quite get it. "And you're from here?"

"Yes," says Ford. "This is the Institute of Oddology, where we study anomalies. Like that vase."

"What happened to the Stan from this dimension? Did you two ever make up?"

"Hmm." Ford looks out the window, pensive. "I can help set you up with an apartment," he adds, clearly changing the subject.

"Sure." Stan shrugs. "You know if Hobby Hut is hiring in this dimension?"

* * *

There’s something strange about this Ford, something _weird_. Stan can't put his finger on what. Maybe it’s the way he stares at Stan, sometimes, almost hungrily, although Stan could chalk that up to just missing him. Same as the rough hugs, the (at times, uncomfortable) caresses, on Stan's arms, his back.

There's something that Stan can't quite shake, though--a blurry vision of Ford crashing his lips into Stan's, of snaking his tongue into Stan's mouth, the fight afterwards--but it's never more than that, a vision. Residue from some weird dream, maybe.

Still, Stan can't help feeling like he's missing something.

* * *

"It's a new drink, very popular in Dimension *69-XY," says Ford casually, holding the two glasses in front of him. "It helps you let go of your inhibitions."

"So does liquor," Stan snorts. He takes one of the glasses and sniffs it. It's fruity, much like its cherry-red color suggests, with a faint hint of bitterness.

"Yes, but this is, ah, different," says Ford. "The special properties--"

"Alright, hell, I'll take your stupid alien cocktail." Stan downs his glass in one gulp. Instantly it sends him _spinning_ , falling into Ford's arms.

"You alright?" Ford looks concerned.

Stan's heart is racing.

* * *

Afterwards, every touch, every embrace from Ford is a turn-on. Sometimes Stan gets hard just from the sight of him--his eyes, his salt-and-pepper hair, his commanding presence. Stan knows these feelings came from somewhere; he just can't remember _when_ he fell in love with his brother.

Some fucking cocktail.

Eventually, Ford notices Stan avoiding him.

"Have I displeased you?" Ford asks him. "I know I've been... neglectful, previously..."

"N-no, it's just--" Stan heart pounds in his ears, his groin. "You remember that weird cocktail?"

Instantly, Ford understands. He pulls Stan into a passionate kiss.

Stan can hardly believe his luck.

* * *

They spend as much time together as they can after that, fucking in Stan's apartment on the nights where he doesn't have to work late. Unfortunately, there's a big holiday coming up, so that's been most nights, lately.

"You should quit," says Ford one night, when they're laying in bed.

Stan scoffs. "What, and freeload off of you for the rest of my life?"

"I don't think you're a freeloader," says Ford softly.

"Well, I couldn't help _thinking_ I was."

They stay silent for a while, breathing each other in. Then--

"You know, there _is_ an opening at the institute..."

* * *

The next month Stan starts his new job as Ford's lab assistant. It raises a few eyebrows across the institute--Ford had to pull some strings to hire a high school dropout, and there were rumors about Stan's youth and his resemblance to Ford--but his brother laughs it off.

"He looks like he could be my nephew, doesn't he?" he says one day. "But no, we're just friends."

It's better than Stan could have imagined. The pay is great, he gets to hang out with Ford all day, and they even fuck in the office, afterhours.

Then, everything goes to shit.

* * *

Stan's weeping in the office when Ford comes in. "Hey," Ford says, sad grin on his face. "They told me about your, uh, reproductive predicament."

"Reproductive--are you kidding me?!" Stan snaps.

Stan's "reproductive predicament" is that some artifact has taken away Stan's dick and given him a vagina, plus the whole package--they've checked! It'd be funny if it weren't so fucking awful.

Ford rubs Stan's shoulder. "I know this is... strange, but it's a golden opportunity! If--"

"I'm not keeping it!"

Ford's expression changes, turns mean. "No. Tomorrow you're going to Lab 108 for testing. That's an order."

Stan obeys.

* * *

Stan falls into a routine the next few weeks: new tests every morning, work in the afternoon, hormone monitoring every other evening, then crying himself to sleep at night.

At least the sex is okay. Ford's been fucking him every spare minute he could get, and while it was weird in the beginning, it's been one of the few bright spots of Stan's... predicament.

"Don't forget the condom, big guy," says Stan one night, as they're getting ready.

Ford grumbles as he puts one on. He's been an asshole about this all month.

Still, things will be okay, Stan thinks.

* * *

" _Fucking_ fuck you!" Stan roars as he enters the lab.

Ford's petrified, sweating. "What's wrong?" he asks, as the crowd behind him titters.

"You think I wouldn't notice?" Stan snaps. "There's practically a security camera in my womb, you think I wouldn't _know?_ "

"Stanley, what the--"

Stan breathes deeply, runs a hand through his hair. There's a memory, a vague recollection, of Stan catching his brother poking holes in his condoms. There had been a fight, maybe... or maybe not. Stan's not sure if it's really real.

Ford squeezes Stan's shoulder. "No birth control is perfect. Let's just move on."

* * *

The next few months are a blur for Stan. Hospital visits, more testing ("Think of the research we could do on the impact of pregnancy on the male psyche, Stanley!" Fucking asshole), pregnancy classes... It's about all Stan can do not to scream. There's something about having an _entire person_ inside of you that feels ripped from a horror movie.

It's just... He doesn't want this, he thinks, as he watches Ford kiss his swollen belly. It's not for him. But he's not sure he wants an abortion, either. He wishes there were some way it could all work out.

* * *

Stan is sitting in the hospital waiting room, knees pulled up to his chest, when Ford gets the news.

"It... happens," says the nurse. "In this case, there were a number of genetic abnormalities with the fetus that made it more susceptible to..." _Blah blah blah_.

Ford looks genuinely shaken, for a man who said his main interest in the pregnancy was doing tests. It almost makes Stan feel sorry for him.

He reaches a hand out to Stan. "Stanley, I..."

"I'm glad," Stan says coolly. "Never liked it, anyway."

Ford stiffens.

They walk out to the car in silence.

* * *

Ford pulls over at the first stop, just as Stan figured. "Stanley," he hisses, "is that any way to talk about our child?"

"Our child," Stan says, mockingly. "Our precious incest baby. You know that's how it died, right?"

"Stanley, what are you--"

" _Genetic abnormalities_ , Stanford. You know what causes that? Incest. Twins fucking. I-I fucking failed Freshman Biology and I know better than you."

For a moment Ford looks like he's going to slap Stan. Then: "Alright. Onto Plan B." He pulls a sci-fi-looking gun out of his coat.

Stan freezes; it's the memory eraser.

He's seen it before.

* * *

The next week is rough on Stan. He feels upset, like there's been some fight he forgot.

One night Ford prepares a familiar cherry-red cocktail for Stan, which he chugs before flopping down on their bed. It's overpowering, and Stan thinks of sex to take his mind off the dizziness. He thinks of Ford filling his womb with his seed, of his belly stretching out and becoming ripe with child. He thinks of bearing Ford a whole litter of children.

"Hey, Ford?"

"Yes, Stanley?"

"You don't gotta wear the condom tonight. Um, if you don't want."

Ford smiles. "Alright, Stanley."


	2. Coda

"Morning, honey," says Stanley, greeting Ford as he walks into the kitchen. "Did you have a nice sleep? Junior here kept me up late." He rubs his swollen stomach for emphasis.

"Mmmm," says Ford, noncommittally. He's not interested in talking, really; he would prefer to simply look at Stan, who is heavenly and perfect: young, gorgeous, and ripe with Ford's child. He can't help but think of the helpless naif who showed up on his metaphorical doorstep over seven years ago; if this Stanley is anything like his was at that age, he must have been tired, hungry, alone, with no one in the world to look after him. It’s sheer luck that this Stan has Ford to look after him.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Eight children bound down the stairs, already awake and hungry for breakfast. Ford had put a charm on Stanley's womb that had made him almost impossibly fertile; he had gotten pregnant every year since that first disastrous miscarriage, and had twins twice in that duration. (The charm had also taken care of their pesky genetics problem; Stanley had been right, of course, and it would cause too many problems otherwise.)

"Hey, my little goblins! Got your eggs all ready for ya!" He takes the frying pan off the stove and scrapes the scrambled eggs onto a serving plate, which he then places on the table, which the gathered children eagerly eat. Stanford, Jr., the oldest, helps the two youngest, Zach and Zeke, eat the bits that they can swallow, while Shannon, Jimmy, Adam, Abel, and the rest all help themselves. "Mmm! That's it, eat it all up."

Looking at Stanley together with his brood, now, Ford finds it hard to imagine a better role in life for his brother than that as house husband and mother. He wishes he had access to this kind of technology back in Glass Shard Beach; it would have made things so much easier for them both.

Later, at noon, Ford would help their second-oldest, Meg (her real name is Carla, but Ford hates that name) with a jigsaw puzzle, while Stanley makes peanut butter sandwiches with Shannon. Then, at 8, they would all sit down for their evening meal and watch cartoons with the kids. About an hour later the kids would all be tucked in and Ford would fuck Stanley from behind while he does the dishes.

"Mmmm," says Stanley, as they wind down. "Feels I should be annoyed, but I just feel so good when you nut in me, man." (In fact, Ford had put a special enchantment on his jizz that makes his brother feel good whenever he comes in him. He cares that much for Stan's happiness.)

After sex, they lie down on the couch together, content and happy.

"Do you feel good about... well, all of this?" Fords asks Stan softly.

Stan hums. "Well, I used to think it was kind of hard, getting knocked up and all, but now..." He massages his swollen belly. "Now it's almost like... I'm happier being pregnant than not. Does that sound crazy?"

"No, I get it," Ford replies. That is, after all, part of the charm on Stan's womb; early in the relationship it had caused... problems, as Stan hadn't gotten used to it, but now Stan almost instinctively knows to seek out Ford's seed whenever his womb is emptied.

They're almost asleep when Stan asks, sleepily, "Hey, you wanna know what I love the most about those kids?"

"What," Ford asks with a grin.

Stan laughs silently into Ford's shoulder. "They all got your fingers." He wiggles his for emphasis.

Ford chuckles. "Well, polydactyly is autosomal dominant," he says with a shrug.

Really, he's glad that the kids remind Stan of him in this way. That is, mainly, why he had them: not just to pass on his legacy to the world, but also to leave some of that legacy with Stanley, this Stanley, his brother from another dimension. Ford is so much older than this Stan, so he needs some part of Ford to remember him by, when Ford eventually passes. The children fulfill that need, at least.

(And should it go further than that? Well, Ford certainly has no qualms about adult incest.)

As Ford reflects on what he has left Stan, he only wish he could share this with his Stanley.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Main fic:** memory manipulation (via the memory gun), mind manipulation (via the cocktail), dick-to-vagina genital change, non-explicit PIV, birth control tampering, descriptions of bearing an unwanted child, mentions of abortion, eventual miscarriage.
> 
>  **Coda:** Mainly horror masquerading as fluff, with some more manipulative elements sprinkled in.


End file.
